Ironing

I didn't intend to write today.  Life feels like a full time job right now what with preparing the Skudder House for temporary tenants, and my own house for the Earthquake Commission decorators to move in, as well as the ordinary day to day business of property and family management. All sorts of priorities have been re-arranged in the last few months and in order not to drown, I need to keep on seeing today's actions as next year's - decade's even - results.  This evening, in an effort to clear a backlog of treasures from my mother's hoard (towards emptying my bedroom for my new Sanderson wallpaper) I ironed.  This was one of my solaces after Elwin died, and tonight I returned to it out of necessity, finding that same peace in a labour of love.   Ironing at the best of times requires attention, and with all these old fabrics my attention must be completely focused: this is when I can best read the fibre, the condition, value...  I have collected some of the finest items together for an improptu blog post, laying the elegant stole, flattering underslip and baby dress on a dynamic floral curtain.  The curtain is especially for Max, one of my regular readers, who opened my eyes to its qualities.